


Intentions

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-02
Updated: 2009-01-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 07:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10782390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: The box of chocolates is taunting her





	Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** **Requested By:** [](http://cordeliadelayne.livejournal.com/profile)[**cordeliadelayne**](http://cordeliadelayne.livejournal.com/) and [](http://choose.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://choose.livejournal.com/)**choose**

The box of chocolates is taunting her. It’s been on her desk for hours, and Hermione’s been unable to stop herself from sneaking glances at it or, more often than not, re-reading the card that had been attached to it. She found it after lunch, surprised and slightly annoyed that someone had obviously entered her locked office while she was gone. Of course, when she read the card, she had been too intrigued to remain irritated.

When she finally accepts the fact that she’s not going to be able to truly focus and get any work done until she finds out _why_ the box was put on her desk, she closes her file and puts down her quill. It’s almost six already, which surprises her. She has been busy, but it feels like she’s been so distracted this afternoon that she doesn’t expect it to be so late. Fortunately, she isn’t the only one who often works overtime and spends more time in the office than out.

She picks up the box and reads the simple card one more time before she leaves her office and walks to the lifts. It’s eerily quiet in her area after five, though she has no doubt that the other half of this floor is bustling with activity as second shift aurors arrive and cases are investigated. She deliberately stays on the legal side of the floor, not wanting to be seen by anyone curious as to why she’s carrying chocolates and going to the first level.

Once the lift arrives, she has a moment of doubt. While a conversation earlier in the week is part of what’s guiding her, she knows that it’s likely that she’s overreacting and allowing her current listlessness to manifest in creating intrigue where there is none. It’s rather pathetic, she realizes, and she vows once again to make more time for friends and being social. It’s a promise that she makes to herself every few weeks, though she’s yet to actually keep it. Maybe this time will be the charm. Sadly, she can’t even fool herself into believing that, but it’s still a nice thought.

As the doors to the lift are about to close, she puts her arm out to stop them. If nothing else, she can thank him for the chocolates, and he’ll never know that she’s been imagining various reasons for the gift, from the most tedious to the most shocking. She straightens her shoulders, tightens her grip on the box, and walks down the corridor purposefully. There’s no one around to be impressed by her determined performance, but it does make her feel less ridiculous.

When she reaches his office, she knocks. “Come in.” His voice is low and deep and does things to her that it really shouldn’t. It’s certainly a good thing that she’s perfected the art of concealment in regards to the latter over the years, or it might be embarrassing to confront him just now.

“Sir, do you have a moment?” she asks as she opens the door and enters his office. She cringes slightly when she realizes how hesitant she sounds. Bloody hell, she’s not a quiet little mouse facing a lion. She shifts the box to her other hand and tries not to stare. Kingsley has his robes off, and his tie is loosened. She can see a glimpse of dark skin in the vee of his white shirt when he straightens up and looks at her.

“Hermione.” He says her name in a way that makes her feel warm and parched. It really isn’t fair that mere words can affect her in such a way, but it’s not as if she can complain that her boss is too sexy and shouldn’t speak to her. She fidgets as his gaze sweeps over her and makes her feel as if he can somehow see beneath her practical brown work robes and knows she’s wearing very impractical knickers beneath her business clothes. His full lips curve slightly as he leans back in his chair. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Yes, well, I wanted to thank you. For the chocolates.” She wishes for a moment that the floor would simply open up and allow her to fall through it when she hears herself stammering worse than Ron when he was speaking to Veelas a dozen years ago.

He arches a brow and smiles. “You’re welcome. However, you didn’t have to stay late at work in order to express your gratitude.”

Somehow, he makes that polite remark sound illicit, and she automatically thinks of many improper ways in which gratitude could be expressed. Her face feels flushed as she holds the box more tightly. “I didn’t, Sir. As you well know,” she says, pleased to hear that she’s not sounding quite as silly now. “If I may ask, what’s the occasion? It’s not my birthday nor a holiday.”

“It’s after hours, Hermione. Stop calling me Sir,” he tells her firmly. “Yes, you may ask, but I had no particular reason, so I’m afraid that you’ll not be satisfied with my answer.”

“Si—Kingsley, you must have had a reason. It’s a very nice box of chocolates.” _Not to mention rather expensive._

“Sorry. No reason.” He smirks as she narrows her eyes. “You hate that, don’t you? Not having a nice logical reason to analyze?”

“You’re toying with me,” she decides, speaking softly as she studies him. “You find it amusing to give me a gift and then not have a valid reason when you bloody well know that I’ll expect one.”

“Perhaps.” He stands up suddenly, moving with a grace that still surprises her for someone so muscular and, well, big. “However, the phrase ‘toying with you’ isn’t appropriate. I made my intentions clear the other day.”

“Your intentions?” She licks her lips and watches him walk around the side of the desk. “Kingsley, you should, uh, stop there. I mean, don’t come any closer. I told you that it’s not possible. You’re my boss, technically, and it’s just not proper.”

“I’m the Minister of Magic, Hermione. Tecnically, I’m a lot of people’s boss. However, I’ve checked all of the rules and this isn’t breaking any of them. Your job isn’t at risk. We’re both single, consenting adults, so no one can accuse us of anything untoward,” he points out, using a tone that is impossible to ignore even as her instincts tell her to flee while she has a chance. He smiles suddenly. “Besides, I think that you’re going out of your pretty little mind being so proper.”

“I want to be head of my department one day. I don’t want people to assume that I earned it on my back when I eventually get my promotion.” She tightens her hold on the box when he reaches for it, feeling him tug on it before she finally lets go.

“People will assume whatever they want. Nothing you do or don’t do is going to change that.” He opens the box of chocolates and removes one. “These are supposed to be the finest chocolates that Honeydukes has to offer. Only you would confront me about my gift without even trying one.”

“I—well, eating sweets was the last thing on my mind,” she admits, watching his tongue flick out to lick the chocolate. When he presses it against her lips, she opens her mouth and licks the damp sweet before bites it. She hears him make a noise as if he’s groaning and growling all at the same time.

“What _was_ on your mind?” he murmurs as he presses the rest of the sweet into her mouth. Before she can answer, he leans down and kisses her. It’s unlike any kiss she’s ever had before. Fierce and demanding and consuming in ways she didn’t think were possible. He sweeps his tongue into her mouth, sharing the taste of chocolate as he pulls her against him.

She isn’t sure how long the kiss lasts. Kisses might be more accurate. It’s difficult to think logically when his hand is caressing her bum and his teeth are scraping against her neck. His shoulders are broad and firm beneath her exploring hands, and she thinks she might have ripped his shirt in her eagerness to touch his bare skin. She feels the edge of the desk behind her before he kisses her again.

It’s highly inappropriate for them to be doing this, she knows, but, at the moment, she doesn’t really care. She’ll worry about the consequences later. He makes her feel alive, makes her feel desired, and she wants him. More than she even realized when she first took the step of coming to him. As she pushes his shirt off his shoulders and he squeezes her breast, she can’t help but think she might finally keep her promise to herself. There’s suddenly something—or someone, to be precise —much more interesting than work in her life.

End


End file.
